Nell's the Target
by nursepower
Summary: Title may change. There are not enough Nell/ Eric stories and this just came to me so enjoy or not up to you. :


I'd only been a part of NCIS for eight weeks and already I had a target on my back. How do I know this? Because my captors have told me such. I came home last night and was ambushed. Three Russian guys were in my apartment. I tried to scream but a fourth guy came out of nowhere covering my mouth with a surprisingly clean rag that I knew had been doused in chloroform. I scratched at his arms with my nonexistent nails...I really have to stop chewing on them.

"Just breath, Ms. Jones", the guy in the center of the trio in front of me said. He had his hands clasped in front of him, giving the impression he was just waiting patiently for me to pass out. He was so calm and the one giving orders. He appeared to be in his early 40's and I could tell that the two on his left and right were related to him in some way. They appeared to be in their late teens or early 20's. I had no idea about the guy behind me because I couldn't see him, but I could tell that he was taller than me as my head was pressed into his chest as he held the cloth over my face. I determined the guy in the middle was the one in charge. As my vision got blurry I saw one of the men pick my bag off the floor and start to rummage through it. He took my phone and stomped on it. So much for NCIS GPS tracking system. The last thought I had before passing out was 'Why me?'

I came-to with a massive pain in my neck from being slouched over and the beginnings of a headache from the drug. I tried to open my eyes but it was obvious they had blind folded me. My arms were tied tightly behind me and my feet were bound to the legs of the chair. What was weird is my shoes were missing, leaving me barefoot. The only thing not covered was my mouth. I could hear someone breathing in the room.

"Hello?", I tried to call out, but had to clear my throat since my voice was hoarse. I tried to pull my hands free and only ended up hurting my wrists.

"What do you want?" I asked the air. No answer.

"I can hear you. Please tell me what it is you want from me".

I heard a door open to my right and felt a breeze as someone else entered the room.

"Are we rolling?" I heard the Russian accent ask.

"Da", I heard from another and before I knew it my head snapped to the side from the force of someone's fist connecting with my left cheek. I'd never been hit before in my short 20 years and immediately started crying. My cheek was throbbing and I felt a trickle of liquid on my skin, presumably from my face being split open. My wound began to sting as my salty tears made their way down my face. I'd seen Kensi take hits before and it didn't seem that bad. But this hurt like hell!

"Please", I cried, letting my head hang down. "What do you want?" I didn't want to get hit again and tried to make myself look and seem as fragile as possible. I cried out as one of them used my hair as a pulley to get me to look up.

"What is your name?" he asked me and I could smell he was a smoker. I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't prepped for this in all my training. Interrogation was something I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of. I'd always been exceptionally gifted, graduating from high school at 14, going immediately to MIT where I obtained my Master's degree in Intelligence analysis in less than six years and then I was recruited right into NCIS where I was trained, background checked and placed in the L.A. Office. But with this I was clueless. Do I say anything? Do I remain silent? I'm not an agent and was not equipped to handle this. I tried to think what Kensi or Callen would do and I know they wouldn't answer or would probably give fake information. Right now I really wanted Eric. He would be able to tell me what to do. He's been in the field before. He was definitely more prepared for this and over the past few weeks he'd become my friend. He wasn't much older than me being 22 and his start was definitely different than mine. He'd been recruited from the FBI's most watched list for hackers. But he was a sweet guy and I admired him. To be honest I more than admired him but I wasn't being honest with myself at this time. So for right now he is just my friend.

At this point I felt his hand wrap around my throat and squeeze. "What is your name?"

"Tanya Brighton", I gasped out. That was my alias given to me when I started the job.

The hand released my throat and I took that moment to collect myself thinking I'd done something right, but received a backhand to the right side of my face this time. I was not prepared for it at all and I screamed out in pain.

"You lie, Nell Jones", the voice said. Crap. Well if he already knew my name why did he ask? I didn't voice that question for fear of retribution but it's the first thought that entered my head. The blind fold was abruptly pulled from my face revealing my blurry vision of two men. One standing behind a camera that had a red light indicating recording and the other stood in front of me holding a folder in his hands, much like I'd seen the agents do back at OPS when they were researching a new case. He was reading it and I wondered if it was all about me. I could only imagine what I looked like, my eyes must be red and blotchy from crying and my face was surely bruised and swollen. The guy behind the camera was one of the young guys I saw in my apartment. The other I had to assume was the one that drugged me because he had scratch marks all over his arms. No wonder he was pissed at me. The scratches looked painful.

I noticed my chair was bolted to the concrete floor and realized that's probably why I didn't tip over from the force of the hits. I saw a small, clean cot in the right corner of the room. It was made up like they were expecting to entertain a guest and I shuddered at the thought that guest was me. I saw three doors in the room. The one on my right was where the guys had obviously entered. The one on the back wall I had no idea where it led and the one on the left was smaller and left me equally clueless. There were various stains on the floor and my mind was conjuring up the worst case scenarios. I saw chains hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room and couldn't possibly fathom what they were for. All I knew is somehow I had fallen into the Devils Den and I didn't know how to get out.


End file.
